


In Your Arms (Is Where I'll Stay)

by Grumpy_Cupcake



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Dimiclaude Gift Exchange 2020, Feral!Dimitri, I love two (2) boys, M/M, Set during the Millennium Festival that never happened, Soft!Claude, this is very soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:33:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27802342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grumpy_Cupcake/pseuds/Grumpy_Cupcake
Summary: Claude arrives at the Garreg Mach Monstery during the Millenium Festival to find it empty.Except for the mysterious beast lurking at the top of the Goddess Tower.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 14
Kudos: 73





	In Your Arms (Is Where I'll Stay)

**Author's Note:**

> ~~it has been a hot minute since I posted and I can only apologise for my abense~~
> 
> This was written for the Dimiclaude Gift Exchange, for Bird. I'm sorry it's so short :<
> 
> I hope you enjoy anyway :3

The snow crunched beneath Claude’s boots as he strolled through the abandoned Garreg Mach Monastery, taking in the sights of the once glorious structure that now lay in ruins. Five years ago to the day, the monastery was a hive of activity with the Church of Seiros preparing for the 995th anniversary since the founding of Garreg Mach, and the students eagerly anticipating the White Heron Ball. Truly, it had been a wonderful night, one Claude looked back on fondly as he stopped in the reception hall where the Ball had been held. Snow fell through the holes in the ceiling, casting an eery chill about the place. On this day, a thousand years since the founding of Garreg Mach, it should have been a happy place. There should have been students, old and new alike, who all took part in the celebrations and reunited with old friends. But there was no-one, save for Claude himself. 

Emperor Edelgard of the Adrestian Empire saw to that when she declared war on the Church five years ago and stormed the monastery. 

Claude was completely alone, with Edelgard trying to take over the Leicester Alliance and Dimitri long since dead. 

_Oh, Dimitri..._

Claude’s heart ached when he recalled the lost prince of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. Earnest to a fault, unintentionally charming, sometimes sarcastic, and haunted by the ghosts of his dark past. Dimitri had a unique way of seeing beneath Claude’s schemes and burrowing his way into his heart. After months of pining, longing glances, complimenting each other in battle, sharing meals, and sparring together, Dimitri finally confessed his feelings during the White Heron Ball. The two of them snuck out to go to the Goddess Tower, a place normally off-limits to everyone. Heading up there was still forbidden on that day, but others did so anyway. There was the myth that any wish made at the top of the Tower on that day was due to come true. And though Claude was not the most religious person, he believed that the Goddess made his wish come true when he and Dimitri shared their first kiss. 

_What I wouldn’t give for him to be with me right now._

His execution had ripped open a hole in Claude’s chest that hadn’t fully healed five years later. The first year had been the worst, as he had been taken over the Leicester Alliance at the tender age of nineteen. Not only did he have to contend with the Empire biting at the ankles of the Alliance, but he also had to deal with a civil war that was threatening to break out between those who sided with the Emperor and those who opposed her. On top of that, his biggest ally, the Kingdom, had been taken over and its king executed. 

Claude had never felt so alone in the world. 

He was alone now, as he walked through the barren corridors of the once-grand monastery. The snow flittered down through holes in the ceiling, gathering in delicate piles on the tiled floor. It was particularly bittersweet in the reception hall where the White Heron Ball had been held, where he and Dimitri waltzed the night away and basked in the company of each other’s arms.

After this war was over, one way or another, Claude would visit Dimitri’s grave. And if there wasn’t one, he would set up a memorial to the fallen King of Faerghus who was gone far too soon. 

Outside, the clouds began to fade as Claude approached the Cathedral and Goddess Tower. He didn’t bother heading into the Cathedral. The damage was visible from the outside, and he would check in on it later. For now, he wanted to check out the Goddess Tower to get a good vantage point of the surrounding area to see if anyone, friend or foe, was approaching the monastery. 

The first thing that greeted Claude upon opening the door was the stench of blood. The stairs were stained with it, some fresh and a lot rusted. There were no bodies, fortunately, but Claude still kept Failnaught at the ready. At the top of the Tower, the rising sun appeared from behind the Oghma Mountains, filling the space with warm light that contrasted the harsh chill. Huddling in the corner, hidden in the darkness, was a figure. In the gloom, Claude could make out a lank mop of blonde hair, black armour, and a lance that was resting against the person’s shoulders. They lifted up their head, the hair falling away from their face to reveal a scarred face with an eyepatch over the right eye, which had most likely been lost during the war. 

Claude stopped dead in his tracks, almost dropping Failnaught in shock. He thought his eyes were playing a trick on him. Dimitri was _dead_. There was no way he was right there, eyeing him up as though he’s debated on whether he should murder him. And yet, there was no mistaking that blonde hair that fell to his shoulders, and the piercing blue of his left eye. How long had he been on his own, struggling to stay alive as he fought anyone who got too close? Claude could feel his heart breaking at the thought of what had happened to Dimitri, sweet and earnest Dimitri, to make him this way. 

“Dimitri”, Claude said as he slowly crouched down to place Failnaught on the floor, not breaking eye contact with Dimitri, “I’m not here to hurt you. May I approach you?” 

Dimitri scoffed, turning his head away from Claude. His hair covered his blood-stained face. After a tense pause, he nodded. Ever so carefully, like he was approaching an injured stray, Claude crept forwards. He was afraid that Dimitri, in his feral state, would suddenly change his mind and lunge forwards. The Dimitri he had known was ridiculously strong thanks to the power of his Crest. He could break a man’s neck with one hand as a _teenager_. This man, now in his twenties, would be able to kill him with one flick of his wrist. The silver lance resting on Dimitri’s shoulder was rusted with blood. Whilst it was no Areadbhar, the Relic of House Blaiddyd, it looked threatening enough. 

“Dimitri...” Claude stopped in front of Claude, still crouched down before him. He cautiously held a hand out, stopping when Dimitri snapped his head up and glared at him. “Dimitri, what... What happened to you? I heard, no, it doesn’t matter.” Speaking about his supposed execution in front of the man himself was a _bad_ idea. Instead, he inched forwards until his had was within touching distance of Dimitri. There, he waited. What he learnt from wild animals was that he needed to wait for them to close the distance. As much as it stung to compare Dimitri, _his Dimitri,_ to a feral beast, it was the only option if he didn’t want to lose his head. 

Claude held his breath as he waited for Dimitri’s next move. His senses were on high alert, ready to leap backwards if he suddenly snapped. To his immense relief, Dimitri leant into Claude’s touch, his shoulders visibly drooping in response. The lance clattered to the floor as he lunged forwards to lock his arms around Claude, squeezing him tightly and burying his head into Claude’s hair. 

Claude melted in Dimitri’s embrace, clinging onto him for dear life. His fingers gripped onto the back of Dimitri’s cape as Dimitri held him close, closer than any hug he’d been given. A wave of emotion overcame Claude as the tears started to fall; he made no attempt to stop them. Five years of believing that Dimitri was dead, five years of struggling by himself to rule the Alliance and stop the Empire from invading, and things were finally looking better. They were by no means perfect, as Dimitri was definitely _not_ himself, but better. A work in progress that could only improve. 

“You...” Dimitri whispered against Claude’s shoulder, like he could scarcely believe that this was happening. Claude could hardly believe it, either, as he ran a hand through Dimitri’s hair. It wasn’t as soft as it had been when they were younger, due to not being washed in Sothis knows how long. But the _feeling_ was enough for Claude to shed more tears, because he had missed it more than he could imagine. 

Dimitri was _there_ , right there in his arms. And he wasn’t planning on letting go for a _very_ long time. 

“Let me see you...” Claude leant back enough to push Dimitri’s lanky hair out of his face, cupping his cheeks and running his thumbs over his cheekbones. When had he developed those? As a teenager, Dimitri had quite the baby face, and now it was gone. As had his right eye. Claude wanted to remove the eyepatch to see the scars, but refrained from doing so. The fact that he was in Dimitri’s arms and he hadn’t been killed was a miracle in of itself. No, the scars would have to wait. 

For now, he buried his face back into the blood-soaked fur of Dimitri’s cloak and held onto him with all of his strength. And he will hold onto him until the war has ended, and even beyond that if Dimitri allowed it. There would be work to do, of course. Dimitri was not himself and helping him would be a long process that could take months, maybe even years, but Claude will help him every step of the way. 

He wasn’t going to let anybody take Dimitri from him again. 


End file.
